The Mind of Cereal Killer

So I’m there to swap a box right. Ms. 307 start going at me about how hard it is to raise 3 kids alone. How she don’t know anybody around here. I’m hip to game though. Didn’t let her get to asking me to be her friend. Hurried up and mentioned how hard it is for me to provide for my Wife and Kids. Shut her smooth down. She got real open about her life after that…but I made haste. Gotta go track down them dollars.

You NOT going to believe this. So I posted that first paragraph hours ago. Since then things have moved rather rapidly. I get’s a call from my dispatch telling me that Ms. 307 called in saying there was a problem with her box. Luckily, I was still close by so I came back. Gave it a once over and reset it. Seemed ok – kept it moving. Well, I gave my second goodbye and got back on the scent for them dollars. Low and behold, another call comes in. I’ll give you one guess who it is. Yep, dispatch with Ms. 307 on the line. So I went back a third time. Except this time I swapped the box and waited for a good bit to make sure everything is ok.

In that time, she took the opportunity to divulge many personal things to me as if we had known each other for years. She mentioned that she felt comfortable around me for some reason. Her display of humility even brought her to tears. I was moved by this. Sometimes my meetings are fated and I believe this to be one of those times. Turns out, she only needed someone to truly care & listen, a little encouragement and permission to hope in her own dreams again. I see you Ms. 307, I see you. Respect.

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Cinique

About me…hmmmm. What’s to tell? I wear a hat of many colors. I’ll try to sum me up with the following:
I am someone’s son, and another’s dad; filling a role in which I never had.
Some call me student and other’s call me coach. Some call me: easy-to-talk-to and others call me: hard-to-approach.
A few call me brother, although I’m a bit torn; cause I have many brothers, soldiers called Airborne.
Some call me friend and all others will hate; my wife calls me Cholo, so no more dates. (Cholo is Spanish for country boy).
I’m a husband, a father, and a self proclaimed sage; I’ve even been called dog, but I stay in my cage.
Some call me loser, and some call me winner. But there is one thing you’ll never call me and that’s late for dinner.